


out of this world

by leo_minor



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds
Genre: (Pro Fencer Link), (it's ravio what do you expect), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Flirting, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Love at First Sight, M/M, Modern Era, Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Stage Magician Ravio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 06:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20466596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leo_minor/pseuds/leo_minor
Summary: The figure strolling towards him is a young man. He’s wearing a dark purple waistcoat and a flashy stage smile. Under his arm, he’s carelessly swinging a matching top hat, jutting it against his hip every few steps. He’s got shiny curls of purple hair falling into his face, and dark skin that nearly glows under the spotlights. He’s very lean, and very pretty, and his grin is absolutely charming, and so Link does the unthinkable :He turns bright red.





	out of this world

**Author's Note:**

> i feel terrible for forsaking this tag for so long, but i am BACK lads  
(i've actually been terribly busy with a much bigger scale project called Kriegspiel, which you can find on my profile ! it updates every week and definitely has some raviolink weaved in, so I can only recommend it!)  
in any case, i hope you enjoy this baby ! as always feedback and comments are greatly appreciated !  
have a good read !

“You, Link, need to _relax _for once.”

And there’s undeniable truth in that claim – he’s been overworking himself, without even trying to hide it. Long evenings of work become endless nights, and sleep is thrown out of the schedule for convenience. It’s made him dumb, predictable and considerably clumsier than he’s ever been before, and has a sprained wrist hidden under his sleeve to show for it. He’s gone so far down the drain of obsessiveness that even his team leader has noticed, and sent him home with the obligatory tell-off and a shiny ticket to salvation; now here he is, wearing the itchiest suit in existence, standing amongst the crowd in the main entrance of the Capital Casino.

In his humble opinion, relaxation is the antonym of this place.

It’s bad when he’s outside, staring up at the fifteen-floor building painted hot pink and covered in more neon than a cheap brothel. There are big signs at every window announcing this or that upcoming show. Stage magicians aplenty, singers in crowds, each evening hosts something spicier than the next. Every person crowding in besides him is wearing a five-digit brand. And expectedly, inside, it’s worse.

“What you need is to go out and socialize.”

His trainer, all pretty blond curls and braids that bounced down her back when in action, has sent him here to cheer him up – in her words, ‘have a good time for once.’ The only issue with this is that Ms. Zelda is the most social girl he knows, and her concept of a good time seems to vary significantly from his.

Worse yet, everyone standing around, leaning at this or that table, watching dice roll with a martini in hand, is stinking rich. He’s never seen so many diamonds in one room. His own suit has been stitched up at least five times, each more noticeable than the next, and he finds himself sweating atrociously in the dark fabric. He hasn’t even washed his hair.

He finds himself unconsciously combing at it, passing trembling fingers through the knots in his fringe. His reflection in the elevator doors reveals that he’s only made it worse. When they open he hurries in and punches a floor number at random. He has no hopes to find a quiet place, but perhaps, if he goes up a little higher, the rooms will be calmer. Perhaps. The bell in the lift dings eleven times, and at the twelfth the doors swing open. Link pushes past a group of expensive-looking businessmen and into the hall that makes up the twelfth floor without too much hope in his heart.

And as it turns out, it’s nearly empty.

This, of course, is completely relative; it’s still packed with customers, but they’re lounging in fancy armchairs or perched on high stools instead of crowding around each tiny table. He can actually make his way through without pushing more than two people out of the way. At the very end of the room, tall crimson curtains fall from the ceiling and bunch prettily on a black stage – it’s suspiciously void of activity. No feathers on the stage, no discarded cloaks or top hats : nothing to show there’d been a show at all. Maybe he’s early…?

He spots an empty table nearby and shimmies his way there. In the time it takes him to climb onto his stool, a waiter appears at his elbow and politely hands him a menu. Link’s eyes go very very wide when they catch the prices; only the polite reminder that his ticket offers total coverage on drinks and snack saves him from a premature heart attack. He orders a glass of wine – no, make that a bottle – and slouches as soon as the man is out of sight.

Oh dear.

Take it easy, she’d told him, but his hands were already shaking. He watches his fingers curl and uncurl detachedly, putting experimental strain on his forearms. As expected, his left wrist shrieks with pain. But while it’s out of commission (and no doubt happy to be), the rest of his body is raring to go, and isn’t having much fun sitting around. Not that he’ll ever admit it to Zelda, but he’s tenser now than he would have been at training.

In a feeble attempt to distract himself from the sharp spasms of his muscles, he gives the room one sweeping look. No luck; there’s nothing at all of interest. Near the door, a group is playing a very serious game of poker over three tables. He’s pretty sure the tall guy standing behind them has a gun in his back pocket. The stage is still empty, and as keen as his ears are, he can’t detect a single sound hinting at some kind of preparation – clearly nothing’s happening tonight, and it’s a fortunate thing. No one seems very interested.

The waiter comes back to the table with a bottle older than Link and pours him a glass with reverence, before vanishing again in the space of an instant. All the staff here seems to have ghostly qualities to them. It’s all very curious.

He’s halfway through his first sip – and it’s good stuff, _good_, better than anything he’s had before which is saying, because he’s been forced into a number of posh dinner parties where people threw around famous winemaker names, special types of grapes, all carefully imported from Italy, you see, but none of those babies compared to what he was drinking _now _– when he notices the stage isn’t completely empty. In the corner, in front of the curtains, a figure is hunched over, swinging their legs.

The figure must feel observed – and rightfully so, because Link is squinting like mad trying to make it out – because they lift their head, and for a brief second, their eyes meet. Link’s nervous system short-circuits so hard that he doesn’t have the time to take in anything he might have seen.

It seems like he’s being given a second chance : the sulking figure has straightened up and hopped off the stage with amazing ease, and they’re walking very decidedly towards him. It takes them a good five meters before they step into the light, and when they do, something very embarrassing happens.

The figure turns out to be a young man, perhaps a little younger than Link. He’s wearing a dark purple waistcoat with a pristine white shirt and a stage smile. Under his arm, he’s carelessly swinging a matching top hat, jutting it against his hip every few steps. He’s got shiny curls of purple hair falling into his face, and dark skin that nearly glows under the spotlights. He’s very lean, and very pretty, and his grin is absolutely charming, and so Link does the unthinkable :

He turns bright red.

From the bottom of his neck to the tip of his ears, his face flushes with a distinct lack of subtlety. To hammer him further into shame, he has no time to compose himself before the young man arrives at his table, and without invitation slips into the opposite seat.

“Can I have a glass ?” he asks, pointing to the bottle. His nails are varnished black.

Link nods dumbly and finds nothing to add.

The stranger gives a dramatic sigh and helps himself. “Oh, thank god ! I’ve never been this thirsty my whole life.”

Stunned, Link nods again.

His new table companion takes the time to drain his whole glass in one go before extending a hand. It takes Link a full ten seconds to realise he needs to shake it. The stranger’s fingers close over his own, and he makes a strange choking noise.

“My name is Ravio Lore,” the no longer nameless stranger tells him, giving him another bright smile. “Pleasure to meet you !”

The name is faintly familiar, and Link remembers standing outside the building, craning his neck to have a look at all the posters on the walls. He’s pretty sure he’s seen it written somewhere.

“_The magician ?_” he signs. It would explain the hat.

Ravio lets out a despairing moan and collapses onto the table. “Not for long if things keep going down this road, buddy ! Not for long !”

“_I thought it would pay alright…_” It’s true : this is an expensive place for people with expensive tastes. A performer here has to make a fortune a night, with the amount of tickets sold.

“So you’d think, right ?” Ravio says, jabbing a finger his way. “But no one’s interested ! And if no one’s interested, I don’t get to do my show. And guess what happens if I don’t do my show !”

Leaving no time for Link to try, he finishes : “I don’t get paid ! So I waste away an evening in the company of assorted snobs and I don’t get a cent. What kinda life is that anyway ?”

Sensing (with great reason !) that this path wasn’t the right one to go down on a first meeting, Link tries to smile at him. It only half works, and he looks somewhat like he’s having a stroke. “_I’m Link Wilde,”_ he tells him. “_To tell you the truth, I’m not having the time of my life either.”_

“And what do you do for a living, Link Wilde ?” Ravio asks. There’s something purposeful about the way the name rolls off his tongue. Link nearly shivers.

“_Pro level fencing, when they let me. I’ve been forced to take a holiday.”_

“Ah, hence the uncomfortable look.” Ravio seems to ponder this a moment, staring down at his hat on his lap. When he looks back up, he’s grinning again. “Tell you what, Link Wilde – I’m officially off-duty at this hour, but for a pretty boy like you, I’ll make exceptions. Wanna see a trick ? It might spice up your evening !”

“_Pretty boy…?_” Link mouths, reaching feebly to touch his cheek. As expected, it’s burning.

Ravio raises an eyebrow and widens his grin. “Shall I take your silence as a yes ? Hm ? Yes, I think I shall. Now, not to sound cheesy, but I’m gonna need you to pick a card.”

With a flourish of his hand, he produces a colourful set of cards and spins them from one hand to the next before presenting them to him, spread out in a fan-like shape.

Too light-headed to think much, Link picks one at random. “_Should I look at it ?_”

“Yes ! But don’t tell me what it is. You know how it goes !”

Link looks at it. It’s the ten of spades.

“Now put it back with the others, anywhere you want – no, no ! Make sure I can’t see it !”

The card disappears into the rest of the desk, and Ravio shuffles them gracefully; Link watches the them fly from one hand to the next in gravity defying trajectories, and at last fall onto the table in a perfectly rectangular pile. Then Ravio blows gently on the top one and they scatter, covering every inch of the surface. Not a single one falls onto the ground.

It’s mesmerizing at is it, and Link’s analytical mind can’t help but try and rip the trick apart before it’s even ended. Magic tricks are just intricate illusions, and he’s naturally used to following fast movements, but this has, so far, escaped him. How did he spread the cards so far around with only a tiny blow ? How did he get one under Link’s wine glass, when he hadn’t even lifted it ? How did –

“_There’s a… under the wine glass…?_” he tries to sign, but his brain is too busy processing it properly, so he just points. “_How did you ?”_

Ravio’s grin blends into a Cheshire smirk. He leans over the table, crossing his arms on top of the cards. “Why don’t you check out which card is under there, handsome ?”

“_Well, I…_” Link reaches out to lift the glass and picks up the card.

Ravio swipes it between two fingers and tilts it. He’s making a painful amount of eye contact. “So ? Is this your card ?”

And there in his hand is the seven of hearts.

Link stares for a few seconds, and then starts laughing softly. Ravio watches him with his cheek propped up against his free hand and a loose grin on his lips. Privately, he thinks Link laughing is the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen.

“What ?” he asks in mock ignorance, examining the card closer. “Is it not the right one ?”

Link shakes his head and stifles his giggle behind a hand. Even if the trick messed up, it’s still endearing – especially with all the cheesy build-up. He watches Ravio give him a look of astonishment and lay the card flat in his hand, squinting at it helplessly.

“I can’t be making a fool of myself now ! In this kind of situation, there’s only one trick in my repertoire that can save me…!” Much like earlier, he leans in and blows on the card. Its surface seems to ripple under the casino’s neon lights, and when Ravio holds it up again, it’s changed. He holds out the ten of spaces to Link, who can only stare at it with an astonished smile.

“Did I save my pride ?” he teases. He snaps his fingers and the card vanishes. “I’d hate to look bad in front of _you_, Link Wilde.”

Heart hammering against his ribs, Link puts his glass down and leans in a little closer. “_Do another one._”

So Ravio does another one.

He does a great deal of ones, in the course of the next few hours. He makes another few cards magically appear in Link’s pocket, or hide in the folds of his shirt collar. On a notable occasion he spits out a three of diamonds, which Link refuses to touch; to make up for it he refills his sole audience’s glass without touching the wine bottle, much to his delight.

Now Link picks a card for the fifth time, looks at it, and smiles. Then he puts it back with the rest – bang in the middle – and lets Ravio work his magic.

He cuts the deck in half, one for each hand, and begins what looks from the outside like a juggling act of sorts – only whenever the cards pass from his left hand to the right, their dressing changes colour. Link watches wide-eyed as they go through every colour of the rainbow before reverting back to their original purple. Ravio joins both decks again, straightens the pack, and with a flourish picks up the first card on top.

“Surely,” he announces, giving a little bow, “this is your card !”

But his hand is empty. The first card is gone, leaving his fingers to pinch thin air. He reels in that distinctively scenic way of his at the emptiness in his hand and looks up at Link’s amused face.

“Well, where’d it go ?” he asks. “Don’t look so smug now – I’ve gone and lost my card ! This is serious busine– hey wait, what’s that there ?”

As slyly as sly goes, he makes his way around their table and reaches out. For a moment Link’s heart skips a beat, and he wonders if Ravio is reaching for _him_, but the magician’s hand aims lower and swoops at the breast pocket of Link’s suit. He feels the padding and gives a smirk. “There’s something in there, isn’t there ?”

“_I guess so.”_

“Let’s have a look then – ah !” Out of Link’s pocket he fishes out a card, which his audience recognises immediately. Ravio glares at him and points a finger in his face. “You thief ! Mister Wilde, I’m afraid you’ve gone and stolen my heart.”

With a roll of his eyes and undeniably red cheeks, Link shakes his head at the ace of hearts in the magician’s hand. “_You’re ridiculous._”

“Why yes ! I am !” Ravio lays a hand flat against his chest. “I’m told that’s what makes my charm.”

“_Not untrue,” _Link mouths quietly. The magician has slipped the card back into his deck and tucked it safely into one of his numerous pockets. He’s since then pulled out a new deck, seemingly completely identical to the first, and is shuffling the cards loosely.

He catches Link’s gaze and grins. “Still in the mood ? Shall I do some tarot reading for you ?”

“_Tarot ?_” Link scratches his chin. “_What, isn’t that more like divination than magic ?_”

“The specifics don’t matter !” Ravio cries, slapping his deck onto the table. Beneath his palm the cards spread out into a flower shape, crimson against the white marble surface. “Don’t you think looking into the future is still pretty magical ?”

“_OK then – tell me my future, Mr Lore.”_

“Even your signing looks snarky !”

In spite of his outrage, Ravio gathers the cards together into a neat pile and takes his seat again. He takes a moment to roll up his sleeves and wipes a thin layer of sweat off his forehead; and the gesture is insignificant, tiny, meaningless, but Link’s breath hitches violently in his throat and he has to look away. Apparently, he’s further gone than he’d thought.

“So !” he chirps. There’s a pause. And again : “So…!”

But he has to clap his hands loudly in front of Link’s face to get his attention.

“So,” he tries again, “let’s get this over with before I lose you, eh ? This isn’t too complicated – I pick up five cards and tell you what they mean. You with me ?”

Link shakes his head livelily a few times, setting his hair bouncing about his shoulders, to try and clear his head. When he manages to look Ravio in the eye without turning pink, he decides it’s worked well enough and gives him an affirmative nod. “_I’m absolutely ready to peek into my life to come._”

“That’s what I want to hear !” And with that, the magician picks up his first card. “Oh, would you look at that !”

The mystical, curvy letters at the bottom of the card proudly announces these two words : THE LOVERS.

“Honestly, what is there to say about this one ?” Ravio prattles on, ignoring entirely the cliché of the situation. “It’s pretty self-evident, right ? You have romance coming your way, Mister Wilde ! Hopefully young, torrid romance !”

“_Oh yeah ?_” Link’s face has broken into a grin again; he leans in and gives him his full attention, resting his chin on his open palm. He’s seen some unorthodox flirting, but Ravio takes it a step further.

“Uh-huh ! Let’s see what comes next – gosh, I hope it isn’t Death, or something.”

Surprise ! It’s the Lovers again.

“_Wow, my life is gonna be drowned with love at this rate.”_

“I sure envy you ! A double occurrence is a definite sign of a stable relationship building !”

“_Flip the next card, then._”

“I like your enthusiasm !”

The next card turns out to be identical to the first two, and the next six – at this point Link is barely concealing his laughter, and Ravio is despairingly pouring out the deck onto the table. A glance is enough to tell that they’re all the same.

“Why, I have to say I don’t understand ! All there is in this deck is love, love, love !”

“_Tragic,_” Link snorts. He picks up one of the cards that has slid his way and toys with it absently.

“Oh, no, on the contrary ! In a few years you’ll definitely be settling down with the love of your life. You’ll probably be married, even ! Aren’t the possibilities endless ?”

Beneath Link’s gaze, the magician is growing flustered – he’s going a little off script, talking too fast. When his eyes meet his audience’s, his face turns a shade darker and he nearly loses track of his sentence. It’s all terribly endearing.

Of course, Link decides to hammer it in. “_And with your endless skills, could you perhaps guess who the love of my life might be ?_”

Ravio’s eyes double in size. “Well, I don’t–“ he stammers, “I don’t quite know, but say, someone of my size or build… green eyes maybe ? Of similar profession to mine – if not, ah, identical ? I’m just guessing, obviously, tarot reading isn’t exactly the most scientific of disciplines…” He trails off and dares a fleeting glance, but his eyes meet with Link and he withers back again. “You’d know better than me, I expect.”

“_I think I kind of do._”

And really, he does. He’d been doubtful at the idea of relaxing in a casino, but he can no longer lie about it – he hasn’t felt this happy in a while. His shoulders have lost their gripping tenseness, and his fingers their addict trembling. His arms have stopped begging for a sabre. Better yet, his wrist has ceased its unpleasant screaming. It’s nice.

But his very own performer doesn’t seem to share the sentiment, and looks ready to take off at high speed any second. He’s curled his fingers around the rim of his top hat and is currently bending it way out of shape. “Anyways, turns out I kept you here a pretty long while, huh ? I should leave you alone.” He fumbles hopelessly with one of his pockets and pulls out a golden pocket watch. Even from his spot Link can tell that it’s cracked, but Ravio looks at it and blows out his cheeks feebly. “Wow…! Would you look at the time ! I really gotta, um, go…”

For someone who flirted so instinctively, Link hadn’t expected him to get nervous – worse, _scared ! _– so easily, but his face is red and his fingers trembling and he won’t look at Link in the eye. Together they gather all his cards, which he rams into his trousers pocket, and clear the table. He tucks his hat under his arm and manages to give Link a half-peek.

“I hope I managed to keep you entertained,” he sort of squeaks, hiding behind his curls. “And, uh, I’m here every Friday, and I don’t perform that much anymore, so we could…”

Link thinks the last words he says are ‘talk more’, but they’re so high-pitched that he could be wrong. He reaches out, to touch his hand and calm him down, and assure him that whatever is making him so damned jumpy isn’t one-sided, but the young man blurts out his goodbyes and vanishes into the crowd. He’s gone so fast that even his exit is a magic trick of sorts.

Link look back down at the table dejectedly. He can already feel his heartbeat slowing back to its normal pace. The one thing that had pulled him out of his mundane routine had already booked it out of there and left him to tense up amongst the rich again, as quickly as he’d appeared. He sighs heavily enough to lurch forward and reaches to pour himself another glass. If the drinks are on the house, they’re on the house…

“_Hey !_”

Beneath the wine bottle, a card has remained, forlorn and alone. It’s the joker, simpering crookedly at him from its inky spot, and Link finds himself simpering right back. He’s still got that black felt-tip in his back pocket, right ? Yes – there it is. He pulls the top off between his teeth and scrawls out a series of digits onto the card. Let the ‘love of his life’ run away without a fight ? Not today !

He hops out of his chair and sets into the crowd, losing all hesitation as he goes. Pudgy women in three layers of sapphires are pushed out of his way; several chairs fall behind him. He runs across the hall with the ferocity that only a sportsman can harness, and reaches its end just in time.

The elevator’s doors are closing over the magician’s gloomy face. Link gives a wave wide enough to catch his attention; without thinking he rams his fist into the button to open the doors. They swing apart and leave both men standing in front of each other. Only Ravio’s tense laugh breaks the silence.

“_You forgot one of your cards,_” Link tells him, and holds it out.

The Joker gingerly passes from one hand to another. Ravio opens his mouth to thank him, but his teeth bump into each other when he closes it again in a rush, having noticed the numbers eagerly marked on the card’s surface. He looks up at Link, eyes flickering, and allows a smile to break the tenseness of his expression.

“_Call me, OK ?” _Link signs. The doors are beginning to close again.

“Absolutely !” Ravio cheers. His eyes have lit up almost as bright as the neons. “I’ll call you soon, Link Wilde !”

“_Have a safe trip home then, Ravio Lore.”_

But the doors have already closed.

It wasn’t what he had expected, but Link decides he can’t call it a bad evening. And with that final though, he pushes the closest door and takes the stairs down.


End file.
